


Three Sheets

by alyse



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M, First Time, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Mutual Masturbation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyse/pseuds/alyse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby laughing just did things to him, like make him smile helplessly back, just happy because she was happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I needed to get Abby and Connor a little bit tipsy. I'm thinking of writing a morning after fic too, but that needs to wait until post-May, i.e. post [](http://community.livejournal.com/mmom/profile)[**mmom**](http://community.livejournal.com/mmom/).
> 
> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/mmom/profile)[**mmom**](http://community.livejournal.com/mmom/). In other words, here be wanking.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://temaris.livejournal.com/profile)[**temaris**](http://temaris.livejournal.com/) for the rapid beta.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[fandom: primeval](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fandom:+primeval), [fic fandom: primeval](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+fandom:+primeval), [fic genre: het](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+genre:+het), [fic pairing: abby/connor](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/fic+pairing:+abby/connor), [mmom: 2008](http://alyse.livejournal.com/tag/mmom:+2008)  
  
---|---  
  
**Spoilers:** Post Season 2

**Disclaimer:** Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.

~*~

By the time they got home, Abby was giggling and Connor was feeling pretty cheerful himself. It wasn't all the beer - he knew his limits even without Abby teasing him about being a lightweight. There was an oppressive atmosphere at the ARC these days, and they'd carried that aura of sadness with them once they left for the day, almost as quiet and subdued at home as they were at work. It had been too long since he and Abby had just been able to hang out, doing nothing but enjoying each other's company.

It had been even longer since he'd seen her laugh like this. It did things to him, made him smile helplessly in response, happy just because **she** was happy.

She leant against him when he helped her out of the minicab and he took a moment to enjoy it: the bright gleam of her hair in the halo of the streetlights and the scent of her shampoo that rose from it in the cool night air, lifted by the heat of her body. She didn't seem to be in a hurry to move as he paid off the taxi driver, ignoring the man's smirk when Abby turned her head into his shoulder, resting there quite contentedly as Connor struggled to get his wallet out without tipping her off into the gutter.

"I think you're drunk," he observed seriously as the taxi's taillights trailed into the distance. He phrased it carefully, each word stretching out over his tongue as he struggled not to slur.

Abby snorted, her hand taking hold of his sleeve as she pushed herself into a more upright position, staring a little blearily at their front door.

"Don't be stupid," she said. "I haven't had that much."

"You're drunk," Connor repeated. He nodded seriously because it seemed to be the sort of situation that required seriousness. And nodding.

She snorted again. "So are you."

"I'm…" Connor hesitated, tasting the words on his tongue. "I'm a little tipsy," he admitted.

She laughed and he grinned in response, once again not able to help himself. "You're drunk," she sing-songed, smiling up at him. Her face was soft, glowing in the streetlights, and he had to fight the urge to simply lean in and kiss her.

He couldn't blame the alcohol for that one. He got that urge whether he was drunk or sober.

"Come on," she said, tugging lightly at his sleeve as she headed towards the front door. She managed a mostly straight line and got her key in the lock the first time. "Coffee."

"Coffee doesn't actually work, you know," Connor commented, most of his attention focused on the way that Abby's bum was swaying as she headed up the stairs. She stopped abruptly, a couple of steps above him, and he almost ran into the back of her before he brought himself to a equally swaying stop.

When he looked up, she was staring down at him, her face serious. It was a real seriousness, not the 'I'm drunk and need to focus' kind of seriousness he expected.

"Thank you," she said simply. "For tonight. I had a good time."

"Yeah." He smiled back, eyes tracing over the contours of her face. "Me too." She returned his smile, starting to turn away as he blurted out, "It's nice."

She turned back, looking at him quizzically, and he could feel the blood start to rush to his face. He didn't let it stop him, though. Maybe he really was a little bit more than tipsy.

"Seeing you happy. It's nice, you know. It's…" He paused, a little embarrassed in spite of the alcohol still wending its way cheerfully through his veins. "It's just been a long time, you know?"

He lifted his face up towards hers to treat her to a little sheepish smile. Her face was still serious, eyes studying him, and then she did something that he'd never have expected in a million years. Her hand came up and her fingers brushed over his cheek, so lightly that the skin tingled a little in their wake.

Maybe he really was drunk and imagining it. He could be passed out right now on the couch rather than standing there, Abby's fingers against his skin. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamt of Abby, of her touching him or watching him with bright and warm eyes.

She tucked that strand of hair behind his ear, the one that drove him half crazy sometimes but that he never seemed to have time to cut, and then she smiled again, sweet and serious. Again, he had to fight the urge to kiss her, slide his fingers into the pale fall of her hair and bring her closer to him.

"I'm not that drunk, Connor."

He blinked at her, not sure that he was reading the signals right. It also wouldn't have been the first time that he'd misread Abby's interest in him as something he'd wanted rather than something she was offering. That uncertainty stopped him as surely as if she'd planted a hand firmly in the middle of his chest - or her fist in his jaw. He might have risked it once, back when he and Abby were first friends, but he had too much to lose now. The one thing he couldn't stand was the thought of losing her, not again.

Abby stared at him for a long moment, her smile fading and her expression edging closer to the serious end of the spectrum. It did that thing to him again, his heart rate picking up, stuttering in his chest, and he licked his lips nervously, eyes not leaving hers.

She gave him another smile and then she was gone, turning away and clattering up the stairs, leaving him floundering in her wake.

He'd never understand women.

He followed her more slowly, tucking his keys into his pocket and unbuttoning his jacket. She was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, already pulling her coat off and then hooking it over the rail. She didn't look at him, not at first, and he hovered uncertainly, one foot on the top step, until she finally turned towards him again and he could smile at her, still a little nervous.

Her face softened slightly and he gave himself a mental kick up the behind. This was Abby. He shouldn't be nervous with **Abby**. Wouldn't be nervous if it wasn't for the fact that just being with her, near her, was enough to put a hitch in his breath, a stutter to his heartbeat made worse with every brush of her arm against him, every look, every hug. He was drowning in hope and didn't want to break for the surface.

Ever the optimist.

Maybe he was being too optimistic now but Abby was still watching him, quiet and considering, and that wasn't the Abby he knew and argued with on a semi-daily basis about who did the washing up. His heart jumped again, and he took the last step up.

"Abby?"

Her expression didn't change but, as he stepped closer, her hand came up and caught hold of his scarf, tugging him forward. He had just enough time to let out a startled little yelp - and he'd deny making that sound to his dying day - before her lips settled on his.

She tasted a little of beer and cheese and onion crisps but her mouth was warm and mobile, moving slowly under his. He had a split second for it to register - for the fact that he was kissing **Abby** to register - before she pressed closer and all thought was gone. He took a risk, letting his mouth fall open under hers and tracing the line of her lips with his tongue.

Caroline hadn't liked that but Abby seemed to, letting out a soft sound and pushing closer to him, her hand coming up to cup the back of his neck. When he pulled back slightly to breathe, her tongue followed, flicking its way back into his mouth and he swallowed a groan, feeling the heat lurching through his body.

He staggered slightly, and she laughed against his mouth, her body shaking against his hands where he touched her. On the waist. She'd kick his backside if his hands ended up on hers.

Wouldn't she?

A little experimentation seemed to be in order, and Connor was all for the scientific method. He let his hands drop lower, dipping down until one of them was cupping her behind. It mirrored the way that her hands were still wrapped around his neck, and she stopped laughing, sighing into his mouth, pushing closer.

Damn. She really was drunk.

He mentally cursed the streak of chivalry that had him pulling back, reluctantly untangling himself from an Abby who seemed just as reluctant for him to go. "Abby… wait… stop…"

Abby blinked up at him, confused, her fingers still wrapped around his scarf. He didn't untangle them even as he let his hands slide over her hips and away, his arms falling limply at his sides instead of where they belonged, around her. She frowned, the expression deepening to a scowl as he tried to step back, put some distance between them before he began to regret feeling like he had to behave like a gentleman.

"Why?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm. There was still a fierce light in her eyes, though, and her fingers seemed determined to keep hold of his scarf, preventing him from moving away any further.

He had to pause and think for a moment, staring down into her blue eyes, which were stormy and threatening retribution, no matter how even her voice. Why?

Oh yes.

"You're drunk."

Her eyes narrowed further. "Connor, I have had less to drink tonight than **you** have, and I can drink you under the table even on a bad day."

Oh, yeah. She had a point about that one, he had to admit.

"Well, I'm a little tipsy," he offered a little lamely, automatically wincing when it came out sounding even more pathetic than he anticipated. Her eyes widened slightly and he hastened to put a better light on things.

"I just… I just don't want you hating me in the morning," he rushed out, the words tumbling over each other. Then he winced again; that was hardly improving things. He just sounded even more pathetic now, although maybe pathetic was the way to go. Her expression had softened slightly, and she tugged on his scarf again, just a little one-two that had the same effect as shaking him until he saw sense.

"You know, for a supposedly smart guy, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes, Connor."

Okay, maybe pathetic wasn't the way to go.

Before he could protest - and he was already opening his mouth to argue - her lips settled over his again and he lost track of what he'd been intending to say. Lost track of everything except how she felt in his arms; the warmth of her body, the wiry, deceptive strength of it; the way that he could smell her now, the scent of her shower gel rather than the scent of a crowded pub.

His back hit the banister and he stumbled again, not wanting to break away even if Abby really **was** drunk, or he was and imagining things. His hands were in her hair now, soft strands slipping over his fingers as he pulled her closer and her tongue did amazing things in his mouth, things he'd never thought were possible.

She pulled back, her lips wet and shiny and, God, he'd done that, smeared her lipstick, left her mouth slack and her eyes focused on his mouth instead of meeting his gaze. His thigh was between her legs, pushing up into her and her hip was pressed against him, **rubbing** against him, and he was hard and, God, she must be able to feel it. She didn't move away, though, not like Caroline would have done. If anything she pressed closer, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

He stared down at her, his heart racing, panting for breath. She licked her lips and he wanted to kiss her again - keep kissing her and never stop. His fingers flexed against her back and she swayed into him, reaching up for another kiss, slower this time, lingering rather than fast and heavy. Then she broke away, pulled away until his leg was no longer between hers. Her hands stayed on him, though, fingers wrapped in his shirt and his scarf as she stared up at him, breathing heavily.

"Bed," she growled.

Connor flushed hot and then cold in rapid succession, a twisting kind of heat churning in his stomach, and lower, leaving him aching. He swallowed, not resisting when she tugged on his scarf again, harder this time, more demanding. He didn't want to let go of her - **couldn't** let go of her - and his fingers slid into the belt hoops of her jeans as she led him towards her bedroom.

Her bedroom. The thought sent another one of those feverish shudders through him, and he pressed closer to her side until they were swaying together, stumbling, hands roaming everywhere, stealing kisses all the way.

He banged his hip against the doorjamb, the brief flare of pain barely registering when it had to compete with Abby's lips and Abby's hands. Her tongue was in his mouth again, more demanding now, and she nipped at his lips, sharp little bites that made him hotter than hell. They tumbled together, down onto the bed, her hands in his hair and his trying to worm their way down the back of her jeans.

It was a little awkward at first - he managed to pin her hair down to the bed with his shoulder somehow and she hissed into his mouth, wriggling to get free. The wriggling only pressed her closer to him, rubbing up against where he was hard and he had to pull away, gasping into her mouth as he tried desperately not to come from that alone. He was all slipping limbs and wet mouth and pounding heart and she was the same, bumping up against him, hot and uncoordinated and needy.

She pushed at his shoulder and he moved back a few inches before leaning in again. She pushed harder, and this time he moved far enough away for her to gain some leverage, sliding out from underneath him and continuing to shove at him until he got the message and rolled over onto his back. And then she was straddling him, her behind pressed down into his groin and he was right the first time - he was going to come in his trousers if she kept grinding down like that, all hot and heavy and Abby. His hands settled on her hips, on the curve of her backside and he wondered if he dared move them around to the front, unfasten the button on her jeans and slide inside.

She stopped an inch or so from his face; her hair fell in front of her eyes, hanging down into his, but he could still see the little pained frown between her brows, the way that her lips were parted, air whistling through them.

"Condoms," she gasped. "Connor, do you have any…?"

Crap. He shook his head, the disappointment biting bitterly.

"No."

"You and Caroline never…"

The blood rose to his face and she'd opened her eyes now, looking at him. He couldn't look away even though he wanted to duck his head, avoid those wide, blue, serious eyes. The embarrassment was moving the blood from his cock to his face, which burned hot and bright.

"Um… No," he murmured, licking his lips a little nervously again. "We didn't… We never…"

"With anyone?"

Now he looked down, which didn't help, given that the position she was in meant that the curve of her breast was clearly visible down the neck of her top. He wondered if it made any difference as he shook his head, numbly.

"Does it matter?" he asked, sliding his thumbs up so that they touched her skin rather than her jeans. If it did, if this was the last time he got to touch her like this… he'd bear it, for Abby, but he'd touch for as long as he could get away with it, touch until she wanted him to stop.

"For some things," she admitted but she didn't move away. "I'm not on the pill. We can't…"

He glanced up at her face, sweet and soft in the light that spilled from the living room. "Go all the way?" he suggested lightly, swallowing down on the disappointment that threatened to crush him. She was right, he knew she was.

Didn't mean he didn't still **want** to.

She smiled, leaning in closer until their lips were only an inch apart and he had to squint to focus on her. Her face at that distance was a blur, haloed by the gold hair that fell around it.

"We could… do a little heavy petting instead," she said, her voice warm and low and hopeful.

He licked his lips again, his hands growing a little bolder, moving around to the fastening of her jeans the way he'd wanted to earlier. She didn't stop him; instead, she closed the distance, kissing him slowly and deeply as his fingers fumbled with the button above the zip.

"Like this?" he asked as she pulled back.

"Hmmm." That seemed to be a 'yes' and the button finally popped undone. He stroked lightly along the skin just above her knickers, still not quite believing that this was real.

She shifted her weight over onto one knee, balancing above him so that she could slide her hand down his chest and over his belly until it was pressed against the bulge in his jeans.

Oh God. Her fingers flexed, a steady rhythm that had him biting at his lip. She was still leaning over him, watching him, her breath warm and sweet against his face. She was waiting for him, he realised, and he took a deep breath, wriggling his fingers into the opening of her jeans, dragging the zip down with the edge of his hand as he pushed deeper.

His fingers slid underneath the waistband of her knickers and then there was hair, wiry under his touch, and he had to bite his lip again, closing his eyes tightly. A little further, and it was a tighter fit now but he didn't want to stop - didn't dare stop in case he woke up - and Abby sighed against his skin, dropping her head until her hair brushed his cheek. His fingers were squeezed into that narrow gap, still wriggling further and further in, and hers were still pressing against his hard-on, a steady pressure that had him flexing his toes, pushing closer to her, biting down hard on the noises that wanted to escape.

She was wet and he grabbed hold of her hip with his other hand, twisting his fingers in her knickers until he could feel his middle finger slide into that wetness, slipping between her legs.

She let out a sharp cry, her fingers leaving his crotch to twist in his hair instead, pulling him closer to her until their foreheads touched. He kept stroking slowly, ignoring the way that his fingers were cramping, instead concentrating on the way that she was rocking against him, her whole frame tense.

She let go of his hair, fingers scrabbling at his belt buckle and then the fastenings of his jeans, sliding inside to grab hold of him. Her fingers were warm, tight around him and he saw white, desperately biting at his lip, trying to hold on.

"Connor."

He shifted, unbalancing her but twisting the pair of them so that they lay on their sides, facing each other. Her leg was hitched over his hip now, her hand still buried in his jeans, fingers still wrapped around his cock - oh God, she was holding his cock - but the new angle meant that he could slide his fingers deeper, two now stroking along that slick, wet channel between her legs. She was gasping, breath coming fast against his face, and he crooked his fingers, the middle - the longest - sliding into her, just as far as the first knuckle.

She let go of him, both hands now fisted in his hair as she rocked, moving up and down, saying his name, gasping little breaths escaping her. He kissed her, swallowing those sounds down, feeling her body tighten against him, tighten **around** him, and then she shuddered, letting out a sharp cry that he swallowed down too.

Had she…?

"Did you…?"

She was panting and he let his mouth brush along the damp edge of her hairline.

"Yeah," she murmured, body still rocking against him but more slowly now, almost lazily. "Oh, yeah." She wriggled a little and his hand slipped out of her jeans. He flexed his fingers, feeling the wetness against his skin, Abby a heated presence at his side, damp with sweat.

He wasn't sure what to do now - what the etiquette was - and lay there a little uncertainly as she pressed her face into the hollow of his shoulder for a moment, breath hot and ragged against his skin through his t-shirt. And then she was moving, sliding down his body, pressing kisses against the fabric, hands already freeing him from the confines of his jeans.

Was she…?

Oh God, she was, her mouth settling warmly over him, slick and wet the way that she'd been against his fingers. Hot and tight and wet and, God, he wasn't going to last long.

"Abby! God!" He clutched at the pillow under his head, fingers twisting frantically in the fabric as she continued to move on him. "God, I love you." He bit his lip, her tongue swirling around the end of his cock, the pressure building up in his belly, and then, "I'm going to…"

She hummed, eyes darting up to catch his, and the sensation was too much. He came, the world turning white and hot and spiked with pleasure as he spilled into her mouth.

He came down from that high slowly, Abby's mouth still moving on him gently when it hit him that he'd actually come. With a girl. With **Abby**. In Abby's mouth.

Shit. Girls didn't like that, did they?

Abby didn't seem to mind, pulling off him with a wet sound that was hotter than hell and made his cock twitch again like it had a mind of its own. She smiled up at him, pausing to press a kiss against his stomach and then she was moving up his body again, hers swaying a little unsteadily as she grinned, her expression warm and sleepy and content.

"That was…"

"Yeah," she agreed, settling herself comfortably against his side, pillowing her head back into the hollow of his shoulder. He was hot and sweaty and not particularly comfortable in his jeans, but he didn't want to move, not when she was close to him like this. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer still.

"Thank you," she murmured. "For tonight."

He pressed a kiss against her hair, wondering if he dared risk telling her again how he felt - third time a charm and all that. But when he pulled back, her breathing had already evened out and her body relaxed as she slipped into sleep.

The End


End file.
